Murtagh: His Side of the Story
by Leafdapple
Summary: What happened after the Urgals took Murtagh? Takes place with Eldest, following Murtagh to Urû'baen and what happens there.
1. Traitors

**Takes place at the same time as Eldest, though I'm not sure how far I'll go with it..we'll just have to see, won't we? Rated T for future plot and mild language.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Eragon, Eldest, or anything out of the Inheritance cycle. That is all credited to Christopher Paolini. But there are a few characters I added just for the fun of it.  
**

* * *

Murtagh groaned.

His back was twisted with pain, his arms sore from the Urgals' grips. His legs were limp in front of him, scars measuring up to his knees. His head was foggy, and slowed his thinking. He dully remembered being carried away from Ajihad, the slain bodies around him, and Eragon.

Eragon. He remembered him standing far away, watching and waiting to welcome them home. When the attack was launched, he had broken away from the group and flew toward them on Saphira. And Arya. She ran under them, but kept almost exact pace. But they were too late. All the men were slain, except Murtagh, the Twins, and Ajihad. And by the time Eragon, Saphira, and Arya got to them, Urgals had overpowered them and taken Murtagh away.

Murtagh sat up, which made his back knot in agony, but he ignored it. He scanned his surroundings. He was sitting beside a long, clear blue lake, gentle splashes lapping beside him. Urgals formed a circle around him, all watching him with fierce stares. They bore tired faces, and he noticed some of them close to drifting off. But they were watching him, waiting for the slightest wrong movement. Far off, he recognized the Twins, speaking to an abnormally large Urgal.

His brain buzzed. Nothing made sense. Why were these Urgals treating Murtagh with hostility, while their leader spoke to the Twins as if they were allies?

He almost laughed at his own stupidity. _Idiot, _he told himself. The Twins were traitors, working with Galbatorix, leading his Urgals, spying on the Varden. It made perfect sense. With a sigh, Murtagh leaned back, placing his hands behind him flatly on the ground. He couldn't say he was exactly surprised. The Twins never treated him very kindly, even after Ajihad accepted him. Nor Eragon, which he could never understand, seeing as the rest of the Varden adored him.

Murtagh was now in a foul mood and wide-awake, despite his tired body's protests. He felt like killing the Twins right then, but he knew it would be a pointless effort, seeing as all these Urgals surrounded him. Instead he let his mind wander, back to when he was in a cell in Farthen Dûr.

The first thing to enter his mind was Nasuada. He couldn't forget the way she looked. The way she smiled. The way she talked..

* * *

_A loud knock sounded three times on the door. Murtagh looked up from his scroll curiously; it was too early for lunch, and he didn't expect Eragon to visit him so soon. The door opened slowly, and a young woman stepped inside. She glanced around the room uncertainly, but smiled when she saw him._

_"Hello." Her voice was soothing and sweet. She wore a long golden dress, flowing gracefully just above her ankles, her hair up elegantly in a bun. She walked with utmost confidence and authority, her gentle steps sweeping the floor as she came closer._

_Murtagh blinked. "Hi." He stood up. "My name is Murtagh."_

_She nodded and held out a hand for him to shake. "Call me Nasuada."_

_He looked at the hand, bent, and kissed it. Nasuada looked charmed. "Why have you come to visit me?" Murtagh asked._

_"My father suggested I see you. Among my many other errands, this one I thought I might enjoy."_

_"Your father?" he echoed._

_"Ajihad." Nasuada beamed with pride._

_Murtagh looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. He didn't think Ajihad had any children, although he had to admit Nasuada's resemblance to him. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and looked back at her. After a few moments, she tilted her head to one side. "Do you like it here, Murtagh?"_

_Goosebumps formed on his arms as his name slipped from her lips. He shrugged. "I wish I could see more of Farthen Dûr. I'm certain that under other circumstances, I would enjoy it."_

_An odd expression clouded Nasuada's face. "I suppose." She looked back at Murtagh, as if only then remembering his presence. "If you will excuse me, I have many things to do. I hope to see you again, Murtagh."_

_"Good day, Nasuada."_

_With a bright smile, she slipped out, leaving Murtagh to sigh and plop back on his bed._

* * *

He wished we could have said more. He naturally liked her, and she didn't seem to think he was an enemy by his parentage. Not like Eragon. They had gotten close on their journey to the Varden, but then he told him about his father and Eragon couldn't look at him the same way again.

Not that Murtagh hadn't expected this much, but he had hoped he could at least trust Eragon not to think of him differently. He wondered what Eragon was thinking now. Mourning, or celebrating?

He smacked his forehead. Why was he thinking so strangely, thinking Eragon was an enemy? After all, Murtagh hadn't put his friend in the best position when they arrived at the Varden. He was put in a cell, and Eragon couldn't do anything about it.

Truthfully, he was dying to see Eragon when he was locked up. Eragon did see him, but it lasted a few minutes, and Eragon seemed to have his mind elsewhere. The only time he really seemed interested was when they talked about Arya.

Murtagh laughed. The Urgals around him stirred, but he continued his merriment.

Arya and Eragon. That was a funny couple. Arya had to be somewhere over sixty. And yet Eragon pursued her. Murtagh wondered how Eragon would react when she turned him down. He knew Arya was smart enough not to give into her feelings, which she might or might not have, you never know with her. And Eragon was a young man, he wasn't nearly ready for a broken heart.

Murtagh hugged his knees thoughtfully. Maybe he should stop thinking about Eragon's twisted romance and get on with his own life. But how could he forget that kid? He had saved his ass numerous times, and how thankful was he? Not very. He went along prancing with his dragon and trying to be a hero. He wondered what the Varden's first thoughts about Eragon were. He wasn't much, and they probably didn't want to freely put themselves in his hands.

He sighed and glanced at the Twins again. They were coming toward him, frowning. One shoved an Urgal out of the way with unexpected strength. They stopped in front of Murtagh, analyzing him. "You're awake," one observed.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Their eyes narrowed. "About time. Let's go."

"Go where?" His patience was dry.

One snorted. "Urû'Baen," said the other.

A small bit of fear knotted in his stomach, but his voice didn't express it. "To see the king," he finished.

Grins mounted their faces. "Careful. He isn't as kind as we."

Murtagh clenched his teeth and stood. The Twins took a step back, a flash of alarm shown in their faces, then mocking grins when Murtagh was forced to yelp at the pain in his back. He looked at them coldly. "So that Urgal attack," he growled. "That was you."

"Give the boy a prize." They turned and directed their attention to the Urgals. Pointing to three, they said in union, "Guard him while we travel. We want to get to Urû'Baen by tomorrow." Flashing Murtagh one last smile, they marched to the front of the group with the head Urgal.

Murtagh watched as the three Urgals surrounded him. He felt a small surge of pity at their tired state. The Twins had to work the Urgals inhumanely hard to get them so tired.

* * *

**I know, I know, weird place to leave off, but I had to. It's a set-up for a different section. **

**Okay, I'll try to update soon.**


	2. A Runaway, As Usual

**Okay, that's better. See, I got the chapter written in a day! Aren't you so proud?**

**Thanks for the reviews! You guys are nice. I thought I would do horrible, this being my first fanfic.**

* * *

The journey wasn't as terrible as Murtagh had expected, but he considered how exhausted the Urgals looked. They probably didn't have enough energy to torture him. Most of the trip was silent, except for his occasional questions.

"Where are we?"

An female Urgal guarding him jerked her head toward the lake. "Tüdosten."

Murtagh flinched. Urgal's voices were loud and groggy, and they usually knew very little of his language. Their looks weren't much better, either. They held themselves proudly, but their yellow fangs and tainted skin didn't help the cause. Many had horns spiraling out their head, and wore little clothes. _That's a real shame_, so thought Murtagh, looking at the Urgals around him.

The Twins didn't speak to him once after leaving the lake, but he wasn't sure if he was happy or not. He hated them too much to want to even look at them, but he thought spitting at them would be fun. And, judging by state of the Urgals, there would be little protest.

By sunset, they were miles away from the lake. Murtagh walked close enough by the Twins to hear their conversation with the head Urgal.

"They need to rest," he was saying.

The Twins looked at him venomously. "They also need a bath."

Murtagh heard a low growl form in the Urgal's throat. "Let them rest or we will kill you and drink your blood like milk."

Although Murtagh couldn't see their faces, he imagined that managed a shiver out of then Twins. "Fine. We will rest here for tonight."

* * *

And so they did. His little patrol guarded Murtagh once again, forming a circle around him and watching him with weary, yet focused eyes. He was given a chunk of bread for dinner. As the Urgals around him slept, Murtagh slipped away from the group.

He wanted to celebrate at how easily he got away, but knew that he had no reason to be happy until he was far from the party. It wouldn't be easy. The land was flat enough that he would be captured if someone were to wake up.

Murtagh ran.

..And ran..

..And ran.

It surprised him how much energy he had after walking all day, trying to fight last night, and killing off Urgals days before. But he continued to run, stopping only once to remove his tunic and run bare-chested. He streaked in and out of night, dawn creeping over the horizon. Even then he ran, the campsite just a dot to his vision.

Murtagh couldn't tell if they were pursuing him, because he kept up his pace. Finally, a small town came into view. He couldn't express how happy he was. He walked to the town, wanting to save his breath, and arrived there about midday.

* * *

He suspected it was Melian, meaning he had traveled to the southwest. And if he continued in that direction, he could eventually make it to Surda.

At the town's main gate, he was met by two soldiers. He had looked around the town for another entrance, but the town was circled by unclimbable gates. Now he prayed the king hadn't posted an illustration of him with rewards in the town as he walked to the guards, steadying his breath and pulling on his tunic.

"What's yur business?" asked one, thickly accented.

"Trading." The soldiers looked at him up and down, seeing he had nothing but the clothes on his back. Murtagh thought quickly. "A friend of mine is holding an item I wish to trade," he explained.

"Wha's his name?" the other one asked, eyebrows furrowing.

Murtagh tried to remember his days in the castle. There had been one man..the king had sent him to Melian to spy on its people, as he had done for many towns.. "Peter Krollson."

One scratched his head for a long time. After a while, his expression cleared. "Oy! I 'member him! He'd be a..a.." He continued to scratch his head.

The other one watched his partner's charade with annoyance. Then he turned to Murtagh. "Go ahead in. It'll be takin'm a while to fig're it out anyway." He stepped aside and unlatched the gate.

A strange silence met Murtagh inside the city. Few people were in the street, and they shot him anxious looks. Everyone's expressions were troubled and frightened, as if a horrible memory continued to play inside their heads. Murtagh slipped in between buildings, wanting to find a place for food, his stomach growling and his throat dry.

He darted through the city as if he were a criminal, but no one seemed to care. Everyone seemed to have their own secrets on mind, anyway.

Finally, he came to a small cottage. He hadn't intended of even stopping at it, but a delicious-smelling soup lured him in.

A young woman was stirring a pot at one corner, light blond hair covering her face as she leaned over to sip out of a spoon. An "Mmmm" passed through her lips. She spun around, hand outstretched as if to grab an ingredient, and looked startled to see Murtagh. Startled, but not frightened. "Can I help you?" she asked, eyeing him.

Confusion clattered his brain. Why _had_ he come in here? "I..I.."

A knowing expression shown on her face and she crossed her arms. "You came to beg for food."

Murtagh studied his boots.

She sighed. "Might as well, seeing as I made too much soup for just myself."

He looked up at her, surprised. She nodded at a seat at a small table, and he took it suspiciously.

She walked over with the soup, placing a bowl in front of him. She poured a generous amount, then seated herself and did the same. "So, tell me, what brings a beggar to Melian?"

"Not a beggar," he corrected, slightly hurt. "Although any food is quite welcomed." He took a large mouthful of the soup.

"Right," she said, a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "Not a beggar. Then why are you here, looking so tired and penniless?"

Murtagh hesitated. He wouldn't reveal his connection to the Varden, but something made him want to be truthful to this woman. A small smile crossed his face. "A runaway, as usual."

"Ah." She leaned back in her chair. "Running from what, might I ask?"

"Life." His voice lowered emotionally. "Mine, to be exact."

The woman cocked her head. "Something tells me your life isn't all that fun."

"Fun!" he scoffed. "_Loads_ of fun. _Buckets_ of fun. Best damn fun in the world."

"Touchie, much?" She rolled her eyes. "Ask a simple question and I get yelled at."

"Sorry," he murmured, slurping up soup. Wanting to change the subject, he asked, "Do you live here alone?"

She gazed at the wall behind him. "My fiancè lives with me. Or he's supposed to, anyway."

Murtagh squirmed in his chair. Talking to women wasn't one thing he was good at, seeing as their moods changed every minute. "What happened?" he asked bravely.

The woman took one deep breath and looked at her lap. "If only I knew."

Again, he felt uncomfortable. He glanced at his bowl. Thankfully, it was almost empty. He ate the rest and said, "Well, thank you for the food. It was great. But I must be off." He stood up.

She looked straight ahead of her. "Sure. I didn't quite catch your name, though."

Again he hesitated. That guilty feeling that he owed her honesty lay at the pit of his stomach. "What is yours?" Murtagh asked, stalling.

"I asked you first."

"I asked you second." He smiled at the way he treated her like a sister.

"Fine, fine. Be stubborn. My name is Layl. And yours..?"

Murtagh grinned. "Thank you for the soup." He opened the door and exited quickly.

"You're welcome, Murtagh." Layl's reply slipped through the small gap he had left in the door.

* * *

**Uh-oh. Now people will hate me because I can't get on for about a week and I left them with a cliff-hanger. Heehee. Sorry, but I have to. Look for an update around the 26th.  
**


	3. Urû'baen

**Whoo, I'm back! Sorry, I'm a little late, but hopefully this chapter makes up for it.  
**

**You may have noticed that my chapters are sort of rushed. That's because I'm eager to get to him meeting (or reuniting, I should say) Galbatorix, but I added all of this stuff so they wouldn't see each other so soon as Chapter Two. Nor Chapter Three, so this one is filled with flashbacks. I love flashbacks.  
**

* * *

Murtagh froze. He had heard his name. _Layl_ had said his name. But he had left before he was forced to tell her what his name was. Slowly, he turned around. In the cottage window, he could see Layl smiling at him devilishly.

Just as he was about to open the door and demand an explanation, a savage cry spread through the quiet town. He frowned at how familiar it was. He glanced to his left. The Twins and two Urgals were parading toward him, ignoring the scared villagers. Murtagh gave Layl one last look, then took off running.

Before he knew it, Murtagh was several street corners away from the Twins. Again, he admired his stamina. The soup Layl gave him was very welcomed, and recharged his energy. But he could sense his effort would end hopelessly.

How had the Twins gotten to him so quickly? It had taken him all night and half of the day to get here, while they entered the town in few hours. That is, if they had been chasing him from dawn. Murtagh knew the Twins were skilled with magic, but he couldn't think of any spell to transport you to one place, or give you incredible speed. But, he reflected, he knew very little about magic any way, so it wasn't a surprise that they knew something he did not.

Every time he looked over his shoulder, he could see the band of Urgals and dwarves pursuing him closely. Murtagh had no clue where he was going. It seemed as if he were just running in endless circles. Every time he got to one streets end, the Twins were already halfway to him. If only he could be just a little faster..

Determined, Murtagh lengthened his stride. Finally, he got to one street's end without the Twins in sight. _Yes!_ he cheered. _Perhaps I _can _make it to Surda._

Finally out of the Twins' view, he ducked into a large inn.

The inn was stuffy, and everything was abandoned. Cobwebs dotted the main room, a small splash of sunlight crawling in from the window and onto a chair. Murtagh surveyed the room, then dashed down a hallway, the old wood creaking beneath his boots. He locked himself in one room and began pressing furniture against the door. He prayed the Twins weren't in the inn.

Murtagh sat in the room's corner for what seemed like hours. He was on the verge of a much-needed sleep when he heard footsteps coming toward his room. His ears pricked, he determined four large steps and four smaller ones. The Twins and the Urgals.

Instinctively, he sprang to his feet and reached for his hand-and-a-half sword. But to Murtagh's dismay, the Twins had taken it sometime when he was unconscious. He readied his feet and put up his fists; as his teacher Tornac had once said, everything was a weapon.

The door began to shake wildly. The furniture blocking its way slowly started to inch toward Murtagh, then the shaking stopped suddenly. An odd white light seeped into the spaces in the door, then the door was knocked over as easily as if it were a feather. The furniture slid across the room, missing Murtagh by inches. At the doorway were the very annoyed-looking Twins and rather distracted Urgals.

At first, Murtagh wondered if they even noticed him. The Twins were looking at the Urgals, while the Urgals seemed content to look at everything around them except the Twins and Murtagh. Then the Twins slowly rested their stare on him. "Did you really think you could escape us?"

"Apparently," he replied. "Unless I'm mad."

They made exasperated sighs, the Urgals flinching behind them at the sudden movement.

Then they turned away, one shouting, "Tie him up!" over his shoulder. Murtagh was left with the Urgals, who approached him, still avoiding his eyes. They pushed his arms behind his back, holding him into place, and followed the Twins.

Murtagh smirked at the irony. Captive to Galbatorix, free as a runaway, captive to the Varden, free to serve the Varden, and now yet again a captive to Galbatorix. His life was just going in continuous circles, wasn't it?

* * *

Murtagh sighed. He was back again, walking alongside the Twins and a group of Urgals. He hardly noticed the beasts, however; they were unusually quiet and very weary.

Once again the trip was uneventful. They went farther into night this time, however, to regain the pace they had lost thanks to Murtagh's attempt to runway. Finally, they stopped and rested, but this time Murtagh was surrounded by all the Urgals in the group. He suspected the Twins had forced him to walk most of the day in order to drain his energy, so he couldn't run away.

And he didn't. He was exhausted, and he hadn't gotten sleep since.. he couldn't even remember. On Ajihad's raid to kill any left over Urgals, the men got very little sleep, and Murtagh didn't have any at all. Then, he didn't mind, but now he wished he had saved his energy.

The Twins didn't seem to be cautious, either. They slept away from the group and left the Urgals to watch Murtagh, half of who were already asleep when he closed his eyes.

Morning came too quickly for Murtagh's liking. His muscles ached more than he could ever remember they had, and the Twins demanded a steady pace from the entire group. During the walk, he had a lot of time to think. The only reason Galbatorix would want him anymore would be for information on the Varden, and he knew he wasn't strong enough to hide his thoughts from the king.

The only solution he could think of would be to kill himself, but Murtagh wasn't fond of that idea. No matter how harsh his life became, death had never been his answer. He told himself he was being selfish and he should be willing to die for the Varden, but he always imagined dieing in war, not suicide.

He continued to ponder the situation as a large city came into view. It was heavily guarded, barbed fences surrounding the city's whole. Men dotted the area, looking battle-ready. Murtagh had escaped the town a few years ago, but it was as familiar as the day he left.

"Urû'baen," one Twin announced, both turning to look at him slyly.

Murtagh ignored them, flashbacks of his childhood clouding his mind.

* * *

_Murtagh shrank back, clutching the skirt of his mother's dress. His father, Morzan, stood before them both, eyes steamed with anger. He had his hand on a chair for support, legs wobbling under his weight. He had been out drinking all night, and came home in a mood fouler than usual._

_Morzan went on about how his wife should not spend so much time pestering their son. "He's of no good use to us! Might as well kill him right now."_

_"He's only three!" she argued. "He can barely talk!"_

_Morzan growled, "He has no use! If you won't kill him, I shall." He lifted his glimmering red sword high above his head, and brought down a striking blow on Murtagh's back._

_He heard his mother's shocked cry, and his father's laughter as he exited the room. Murtagh remembered being carried to the healer, who, fortunately, lived close by. Then his memory blacked out, and he couldn't hear or see anymore._

* * *

_"What are you doing?" Murtagh demanded. _

_Morzan grinned evilly at his fifteen-year-old son. "Teaching your little friend a lesson."_

_Murtagh could do nothing but watch as his best friend, Gila, fell to the floor with a dull thud. He sprang to her, cradling her head in his arms. Her light brown hair flew over his tunic, and her breathing was slow and labored. Murtagh looked at her and cried, "No! Gila, wake up! Wake. Please, please!..Please, wake up.."_

_But inside he knew it was hopeless. Gila gave him one last blink, then her breathing came to a stop, and her eyelids slowly closed over her two blue emeralds of eyes. Murtagh stared at her lifeless form in dismay. The only person he had ever cared about, gone in a flash. And by his father! He looked up at Morzan, his eyes shadowed with hate. "You cruel bastard!" he yelled._

_Morzan seemed to find his shouts rather amusing. A laugh escaped him, bellowing outward. He looked down at his son, a grin splattered on his face. "Oh, Murtagh." He shook his head. "She never would have loved you. But you wouldn't accept it. You're as stubborn as me. You know, we're very alike. Mirror images, even."_

_"I will _never_ be like you." Murtagh focused only on Gila, eyes clouded with grief._

* * *

_Murtagh slung his pack over his shoulder. Inside it carried a few loafs of bread and a wineskin. He hoped that wherever he ended up, he would be able to restock his supplies._

_He slipped through the streets of the Empire, arriving at the west gate. He stopped at the guard on duty, and whispered, "Thank you. I don't think I will ever be able to repay you."_

_The guard barely lifted his head, revealing two large brown eyes and a small smile. "Tell me what freedom is like."_

_"I will." Murtagh looked to his sides, and, satisfied that they weren't being watched, strode out of Urû'baen._

* * *

"Murtagh!"

Murtagh looked sideways at the Twins. He had been looking at the city for quite a while.

"Are you going to be day-dreaming all day, or are we going?"

He looked back at the city, trying to feel confident. "Let's go," he murmured, lost in memory.


	4. Galbatorix

**I thought it would be fun to add Gila. I know someone will probably say "But Murtagh is mine!!" I hadn't planned to give Murtagh a love interest, and I still don't think I will, but I thought I'd give him a previous love interest to show why he's so grumpy and cautious now. You might hear more about her in the future.. again, I don't know how far I'll go with this story.**

* * *

Murtagh walked slowly beside the Urgals. An uneasy knot formed in his stomach. Was it from fear of the king? ..No, Galbatorix didn't frighten him after so many years of being forced to follow his orders. Perhaps it was because he didn't know how the people of Urû'baen would react to his reappearance. He knew he had stirred much hope for the people of the Empire when he left, but that wasn't what bothered him either. It was, he realized, having to live in the home he had abandoned once again.

They arrived at the main gate. The guard on duty was looking at the ground and didn't notice them until they were feet away from him. He looked up, his eyes searching the group frantically, then he rested his gaze on Murtagh.

Murtagh's eyes widened. Before him stood the guard who had opened the very gate of his escape. And now he was opening it for his capture. Their eyes locked, and they exchanged meaningful glances. The guard reached over and opened the gate, then said to the Twins, "I will accompany you to Galbatorix."

He fell in step beside Murtagh, and for a while they were silent. Then: "Galbatorix said he was attempting to capture you, but.. I didn't think.." His voice trailed off.

Murtagh looked away. "Freedom is nice, if you were wondering."

The smallest of smiles replaced the guard's grim expression. "But much too short."

Murtagh looked at him up and down. He had let his beard grow to a fair amount, and his light brown hair reached to his shoulders. "You look different, Jyen. But still much like your sister."

Jyen stopped momentarily at the mention of his sibling. "Gila was much prettier than I."

A soft chuckle escaped Murtagh. Then, growing serious, Jyen said, "I thought you planned to avoid the Varden at all costs."

"I did." He grimaced at the memory. "But Eragon--you know Eragon, right? I bet he's the gossip of Urû'baen-- forced me. I told him I wasn't going to the Varden, so I accompanied him to Farthen Dûr, but there was no choice afterward."

Jyen's mouth went crooked. "What happened then?"

"I was locked up," Murtagh replied flatly. "They don't treat you so kindly when your father is a murderer."

Jyen seemed eager to change the subject. "How did they capture you?"

Murtagh described the events of the last few days. He did leave a few details out for the sake of the Varden. Jyen was an old companion of Murtagh's, but he couldn't say he completely trusted him.

They arrived at a large castle. It was colored with black and gray, looming over Urû'baen. Soldiers stood at the entrance, giving them hostile looks, but they seemed to recognize the Twins. The ones guarding two massive black doors moved aside.

Inside, the floor was pearly black, the walls around them a dull gray. The main room had very little in it, many small passageways twisting away to different areas of the castle. Jyen gave Murtagh one last look, then said to the entire group, "Well, you know the way. I shall be at my post." And with that, he walked off.

The Twins walked down a passage to the right, as if by instinct. Murtagh and the Urgals followed, Murtagh grimacing as he recalled things from his childhood.

The corridor opened to a large room, a black throne placed in the middle of its pearly floors. In front of the throne, a man was kneeling. Murtagh couldn't identify his exact words, but he could tell he was pleading for life.

In the throne sat the man who was the center of Murtagh's bad memories. Galbatorix watched the man in front of him, looking at him with a sneer. After listening to his pleads for a while, he snapped his fingers. The man on the floor was pulled up by two soldiers and taken away.

A heartless chuckle escaped Galbatorix, then he looked over a their group. Murtagh was behind an Urgal so the king couldn't see him, so Galbatorix demanded, "Well? Did you get him?"

The Urgal stepped aside to reveal Murtagh, and a wide smile stretched out the king's face. "Murtagh."

"Galbatorix." Murtagh just blinked at him.

He stood and slowly walked over to him. "I haven't seen you since you ran away." He squinted at Murtagh. "You look different, but still much like Morzan."

Murtagh grimaced and bit back a retort. He examined the king instead. Galbatorix had never been handsome, but he hadn't struck Murtagh as ugly before. His eyes were deep and hollowed, giving it a piercing look that was hard to stare at. They had no pupil, either that or it _was_ a pupil, because the entire eye was black, with no white you see in that of a normal person. His nose was sharp, giving him slight resemblance to a hawk. His mouth was small and defiant, curved in a tight smile. Lastly, he had no hair. He was bald, but not like the Twins' gleaming heads. The king's scalp was covered with gray and brown blotches, reminding Murtagh a bit of mold.

Without warning, Galbatorix disturbed Murtagh's mind. Murtagh tried to shove him back, but to no avail. Instead, he tried to concentrate on something else. He chose the memory of Nasuada in his cell, and the scene played over and over in his head. This seemed to distract Galbatorix for a while, but afterward he simply brushed it aside and leafed through Murtagh's memories. He examined his trip with Eragon closely, watching with most interest their fights. The king laughed when Murtagh revealed his father to Eragon, seeing Eragon's shocked expression. Galbatorix barely looked at the Varden episodes, seeing as Murtagh wasn't highly thought of in the Varden until days ago and didn't know much more than Galbatorix himself.

Afterward, the king stepped back with a grin. His expression was taunting. "Nasuada.." Galbatorix let the name roll of his tongue and fall through the air. Then he turned to the Twins. "Did you get anything out of Eragon?"

The Twins described Eragon's life on his farm for fifteen years. They talked about his cousin, Roran, who Galbatorix seemed quite interested in. "We'll see what we can squeeze out of him as well," he said thoughtfully.

Then the Twins said, "And we found out something we think you'll find quite pleasing." They paused. "His mother is Selena."

Galbatorix's eyes widened and his smile became tangled. He ran his tongue over his teeth once, then looked at Murtagh, who was shocked. "Looks like someone has a brother."

Murtagh didn't reply, too lost in thought. Eragon was his brother! All that time they were together, and he hadn't known. He thought he should feel pity for Eragon, but he only felt happy. Someone finally had his life! His father, even the same scar on their backs! If Murtagh had been the one taken to Carvahall, and Eragon to the Empire, their lives could very well have been reversed.

Galbatorix was still looking at Murtagh. "Well, what an exciting turn of events." He ran his eyes over Murtagh, deciding something. "For now.. you're my prisoner. Unless you want to pledge loyalty to me."

Murtagh looked at him with disgust. "I'll take the cell."

* * *

The cell was small, entirely black, and full of things Murtagh couldn't define. A sticky substance layered the floor, making it difficult for Murtagh to pace around without his boots sticking to the floor. In a corner, there was a gooey green thing Murtagh didn't dare touch. His bed was small, spots of gray and brown, much like Galbatorix's head, dotted the spread.

There was much to think about after that day, hence Murtagh's pacing. He and Eragon being brothers.. It made sense, but it was a huge surprise. It explained his mother's absence after three years; she left to give birth to Eragon! That meant Eragon was around sixteen. There was a slight resemblance between them, but.. Brothers! Why was it that all these secrets tied around family members?

Days past with Murtagh in the cell. Two meals came a day, a small bit of meat and bread. He was becoming very bored, but he refused to pledge loyalty to Galbatorix.

Finally, a messenger came to him, saying the king wanted to have lunch with him. Lunch.. he hadn't had a proper lunch in so long. His meals came sometime after breakfast and before lunch, and the other was after lunch and before dinner. He accepted, and was guided by the messenger to a large room.

The room was, amazingly, black. A long gray table sat in the middle, Galbatorix seated at the main seat. He directed Murtagh to sit beside him, but Murtagh seated himself a few chairs away.

"Murtagh," said Galbatorix in a silky voice. "What do you think my plan is for Eragon?"

Murtagh blinked. "To kill him."

The king raised a bony finger. "Wrong," he corrected. "My plan is to train Eragon, to make him fit and one of the greatest Riders, under me, of course. See, the old Riders weren't good examples for their people. They were old, fat, and weak. My dream is for the Riders to be near perfect, to make those who follow them feel they are the most powerful in the land. I hope to rebuild the Riders, but to make them better." He paused. "Perhaps it's better if I show you."

Galbatorix entered his mind, but he was a lot gentler than before. He showed Murtagh pictures of Riders and their dragons, standing proudly before the people of Alagaësia. They were all very fit and oddly young, and stood beneath Galbatorix, who also stood bedside his dragon, Shruikan. The people beneath crowded around, cheering and singing their joy.

The king let the image soak in before pulling away. "What do you think?"

"It's.. amazing," Murtagh admitted. "But how are you going to get all those Riders?"

Galbatorix leaned back in his chair. "The remaining dragon eggs are male. If I can get them to mate with Saphira, she will be the mother of a new generation of dragons."

Murtagh considered it. "How are you going to get Saphira's children, then?"

The king waved a hand. "Details, details. The point is, do you want to help make this fantasy a reality?"

He hesitated. The image was wonderful, but he was still loyal to the Varden.. wasn't he? But maybe they want this as well. Perhaps he would even be doing them a favor. But Murtagh knew it would be foolish to decide anything without the help of the Varden. "I do, but.."

"But you want to be loyal to the Varden," Galbatorix guessed.

"Yes."

He sighed. "Don't you think the Varden want this as well? Perhaps you'd be helping them."

Murtagh looked at him with astonishment. It was as if he was inside his brain! But he could sense something wrong with the king's proposal. "No," Murtagh said at last. "I will not swear loyalty to you."

Anger flared in Galbatorix's eyes. He yelled a few words in the ancient language, and Murtagh froze. It was as if the king had extracted a part of him. An important part, but one he had never seen. His head began to throb, and he had a strong urge to obey Galbatorix. Murtagh's body began to shake with the effort to ignore the urge, and he saw Galbatorix grin evilly. "Oh," he said as silky as ever. "It looks like I found your true name. A very odd name, I'll admit, but this puts you under my complete control." His grin began to widen, as if he were thinking of the possibilities.

"No.. I won't.. Obey."

"Oh, yes you will." Galbatorix stood and walked over to Murtagh, putting his lips beside Murtagh's ear. "You will swear loyalty to me in the ancient language."

Murtagh gritted his teeth to keep the words from leaving his mouth, but they escaped nonetheless. Afterward, he felt as if a huge amount of energy had escaped him, and he collapsed to the floor.

"Well, Mr. Morzanson," said Galbatorix, looking down at him viciously. "It looks as if you're mine now."

* * *

**What did you think? How was Galbatorix's description? At first, I wanted to reference with the movie, but when I got to that part I decided to screw it and do whatever came to mind. I had first wanted to make Murtagh pledge to him in the NEXT chapter, but this one was too small for my liking. Anyway, what did you think? Is it getting better, worst? I need to know these things!**


	5. The Red Dragon

**Three chapters in a day. Is that some sort of record? Maybe not. Oh well. I find it amazing.**

* * *

Murtagh felt differently after learning his true name. He had been told that it drove people mad, and some killed themselves to ease the suffering, but he hadn't expected it to be like this.

His true name always lingered in his head, reminding him every second that someone had complete and total power over him. The name itself was a shock--to think that that one title covered _exactly_ who he was--and then to know that if it were uttered, he could be as good as dead. It was a threat that hung over his shoulders, shadowing all his thoughts. It wouldn't let him sleep at all some nights, the idea so overpowering.

And with that, Murtagh was flung into _much_ more eventful days. Galbatorix seemed to throw everything needed to be done at him, and he realized he was the king's new right-hand man. That idea made him grimace. _Like father like son_, he thought. On the smallest of bright sides, he no longer was prisoner and forced to sleep in the cell. His new room wasn't extravagant, but it was very welcomed after living in a cell where most of its contents were unknown.

One day, the king summoned him. When Murtagh reported to him, he found Galbatorix with a chest. The chest was large, but small and light enough to be held. It was set on a table beside Galbatorix, who was looking at it fondly. When Murtagh approached, he barely looked up and asked, "Do you know what's in this box?"

Murtagh nodded. He had seen its contents a few times when he was in the castle earlier, and he couldn't forget it. Galbatorix reached over and unlatched the chest, opened it, and looked inside it as if it were full of mountains of gold.

The chest had three dips in its wood, the dips covered with a velvet black. One dip was empty, while the others contained a red and green dragon egg. The green egg was painted brilliantly with dark and light greens and silver streaks here and there. But Murtagh only looked at the red egg, feeling a strange connection to it. It was covered with many deep reds, accompanied by small streaks of black. The streaks swirled around the egg beautifully, surrounding its contents.

Galbatorix smiled widely at Murtagh's reaction. "Pick it up," he commanded quietly.

Murtagh didn't think twice, he carefully lifted the red egg out of its dip, gazing at it with a look of wonder and, strangely, desire. He was suddenly envious of Eragon, having a bond with a creature who knew exactly how he felt. He could think of no one who understood him like Saphira did Eragon, and he wanted the connection dearly now.

He continued to look at the egg, too lost in its swirls of red and black. Suddenly, a crack appeared.

And a tiny one next to it.

And another one, making it look like a lightning bolt.

Murtagh walked forward and set the egg on the table cautiously, and it continued to break. More and more cracks appeared, breaking the egg's beautiful design. Then pieces began to fall off, red chips falling onto the table. As the top of the egg began to dissolve, Murtagh saw a small bit of red inside the egg. And slowly, he made out the fiery head of a dragon. The egg's base was now, chip by chip, breaking off, and he saw the dragon's body. Then the last pieces fell on the table, revealing the creature's legs.

Murtagh couldn't help staring at the dragon. Its head was squared, white spikes dotting down its back to its tail. It yawned, revealing sharp teeth that looked quite ready to bite into an enemy's throat. Its nostrils were no more than black dots, making peculiar sounds as the dragon snorted. Its wings were about half the length of Murtagh's arm, flapping lazily. Its claws sprang out from its paws, tapping the table top impatiently. The dragon's tail was oddly long, becoming smaller and smaller as it went along.

The red dragon lifted its head to the ceiling, then made a movement Murtagh could have mistaken as a sneeze, but knew it wasn't when a sharp pain throbbed in his hand. The dragon had burnt him! On his hand, a peculiar symbol lay, and he recognized it as the gedwëy ignasia Riders were given.

Galbatorix was looking at him.. proudly? It was hard to believe the king was proud of him. "Rider," he said with a grin.

The thought that this was _his_ dragon only then struck him. Murtagh was a Rider! He could share his thoughts with the little creature, without having to be cautious like he was with everyone else. And when it grew, he could _ride_ it. It was a great honor to ride a dragon, and to think that he could ride this one whenever he so pleased.. The thought overwhelmed him for a moment.

"Well," said Galbatorix, examining the red dragon, who looked back at him with beady eyes, "It appears that I am now in control of a Rider _and _his dragon."

That threw him off guard. Murtagh knew how close dragons and Riders were, and his dragon would probably do whatever he did. Which meant it had no choice in what it wanted to do, and it was the king's slave for so long as Murtagh was. He didn't like that idea, but as the red dragon looked up at him, he couldn't imagine ever parting with it.

"Now," the king continued, "We'll have to begin your lessons as soon as possible. And a name, we must get the dragon properly named. We'll also have to start teaching him how to speak, as dragons are as stupid as we are after being born as they are after being hatched.."

He continued, but Murtagh didn't hear. He was still looking at the dragon, who was gazing at him likewise. Right then, he couldn't think of the dragon being stupid, its intelligent eyes gleaming up at him.

Then a presence entered his mind.

Murtagh instinctively tried to shove it away, but stopped when he realized it was his dragon. Its thoughts were very alien to Murtagh, mostly consisting of images and emotions. Its feelings surged through to Murtagh, and, although the dragon could not speak, it seemed to be saying, _Hi_.

He laughed as the dragon blinked at him with its greeting. _Hello_, Murtagh said.

At this, the dragon blinked, now confused. Murtagh instead tried to convert his reply into feeling and image, but didn't succeed. He was about to try again, but stopped when he noticed Galbatorix staring at him.

"Done making chit-chat?"

He stole one last glance at the dragon, who was trying to look innocent. "Yes."

"Good. Now, let me take him away, and we will immediately start his instruction."

Murtagh blinked. "You're taking it?" he asked, feeling suddenly protective.

"That's what I said," Galbatorix replied. "We need to begin teaching him as soon as possible, seeing as we plan to attack Surda in less than a week."

"Less that a week!" Murtagh repeated, stunned. "But it won't be ready to fight by then." It wasn't only that, but his throat went dry at the thought of fighting against the people he had come to know and respect in the Varden.

"He will," the king corrected. "You let me handle that, while you begin your magic training."

"Magic training!"

"Stop copying me!" Galbatorix snapped. "It's annoying. And yes, magic training. Most Riders can use magic. I refrained from teaching you before you ran away because I wasn't sure I could trust you entirely. But now you're just my little puppet."

Murtagh looked up at him, eyes sparkling. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward. "Am I a good puppet?" he asked in a sing-song voice.

The king narrowed his eyes at Murtagh's sudden mood swing. "..Yes. You're my favorite puppet. Now go to your room, I'll send your dragon instructor soon."

As Murtagh walked away, he clicked his heels together at the thought of being Galbatorix's favorite puppet.

* * *

**..Yeah, I know that last bit was random. I felt like making Murtagh do something I would love to see him do in real life, so there you have it. I'm just going to pretend that's his true name kicking in.**


	6. Dragon and Magic Lessons

**Sorry for this being delayed. I have two excuses: 1) my computer is a butt-face. It wouldn't let me publish any of my writing. 2) I had a serious case of writer's block. I couldn't think of anything! The awesomeness I've had the last week is gone.**

**I'm going to take Her-My-Oh-Knee's advice, and start spacing out my chapters. I'm going to try to keep it at one or two chapters a week, which is already a lot for some writers on here. Because look at that, I've gotten five chapters in less than a week! And there might be times, as Her-My-Oh-Knee pointed out, where I'm on vacation or my computer isn't working, and I want to be able to not be stressed out about not getting chapters in.**

**And I just now realized that I forgot to add Murtagh getting his gedwëy ignasia. So I'll be adding a little section to describe that in the fifth chapter.**

**bloomforever- I know! Which is the main reason why I made this fanfic, because I imagined there was another side to the story. Murtagh has always been my favorite character, and I didn't think he would so willingly turn evil after running from the king's command for a few years.**

* * *

Murtagh was feeling oddly giddy. He couldn't place why, whether it was that he was now a Rider, or that he was about to learn magic, something he had always had interest in.

He put his hands behind his head like a pillow, and put his back to the bedroom wall. It had been almost half an hour since the king's promise of a dragon teacher. Murtagh wondered who his teacher would be, seeing as little people knew much about dragons nowadays. His thoughts were interrupted when a knock sounded at the door. Before he could even stand, the door opened anyway to reveal Galbatorix.

"You're my dragon teacher?"

'What better a teacher for dragons than a Rider?" he replied, sitting on the edge of Murtagh's bed. "Now, let's start with basics. A dragon's eating habits."

"Saphira ate quite a lot on our journey to the Varden," said Murtagh. He no longer cared about sharing his memories, as the king probed his mind for information daily.

Galbatorix nodded. "Dragons eat a lot, the more they grow. Now, by then, Saphira would have been only half-matured, which shows a lot. I imagine that now she gives the Varden's cooks a run for their money. Your dragon will only need a few pieces of meat a day, for I would guess about two weeks."

"How is it supposed to battle Eragon and Saphira?" Murtagh blurted out, "They'll shred him to pieces!"

"I said I'd take care of it," the king snapped, "But if you must know, I can increase his growth rate so that he is as strong as Saphira. However, and fortunately for us, his eating habits will take their normal time to mature."

Murtagh imagined being forth into growth, only a few hours after birth. What an odd sensation that must be. "Will it hurt it?"

"It shouldn't. And your dragon is a _he_, by the way. I imagine he won't like being called _it_. Dragons can be very sensitive, they can."

"And protective," Murtagh added, thinking of how Saphira wouldn't let him near her Rider until Eragon told her it was alright.

The king nodded. "And protective," he agreed, "You'll start to notice that as your dragon matures."

"What is his name?"

"Who?"

"My dragon," Murtagh replied. "How am I supposed to know his name?"

"Dragons have most of the same names. Like Saphira, for example. I've heard her name twice before. I can tell you all the names I know, and he will choose them those."

Murtagh scratched his head. Dragons were complicated. "And if he doesn't like any of those?"

Galbatorix shrugged. "I wouldn't know. My old dragon chose one of the first names I listed, and Shruikan was already named when I found him."

_You mean stole_, Murtagh corrected inwardly. "And what about flying? When will my dragon be able to fly?"

"Tomorrow," Galbatorix replied, "Usually it would take around a month, but your dragon will be fit to fly you by sunset tomorrow. And we will also start your training in flying, teaching you how to properly ride and how to attack off ground."

"I've only flown once before," said Murtagh, "And it wasn't very fun."

"It's an acquired taste," the king said, some of his old venom back in his voice, "You'll learn."

But Murtagh doubted that, as he couldn't forget the taste of bile in his throat when he was on Saphira's back. "When will I start magic training? Will it be with you?"

"When I want you to," Galbatorix said, "And no, I will find someone else, as I have more important matters of business to attend to."

Then Murtagh said, "So, what are you going to teach me?"

"All I know. Since you are now under my complete control--" He paused, a thick smile splattering his face at the thought, "I don't hesitate to teach you.

"Now," Galbatorix went on, "As I was saying before, let's talk about the eating habits of dragons. For now, your dragon will be fine, but soon it will prove handy."

And so it went. For the next few hours, they talked about dragons. Murtagh found it very interesting, and Galbatorix seemed to have a different tone when talking about dragons. He used Shruikan as an example many times, but rarely mentioned his old dragon, whom Murtagh wondered what his name was. He was certain someone had mentioned it before, but he couldn't remember it in the least.

When the king left his room, Murtagh slunk back on his bed and tried to remember the lesson. It had consisted of many things: when a dragon is ready for flight, when it was first able to take an entire army, when is the usual mating period, and so on. One thing Galbatorix had failed to mention was a dragons "powers". It was no secret that a dragon could do extraordinary things, and Murtagh was eager to learn exactly what. He remembered that after Brom had died, Saphira had made a tomb of rock become pure diamond. It had amazed him, but he never questioned it.

But now he was dying to know. He pictured his small red dragon doing amazing things, things unimaginable. It really wasn't a hard idea to grip; after seeing his dragon and reading its thoughts briefly, Murtagh felt a single dragon could take on the world.

* * *

The next day, around late morning, a man came into his room. There was no warning; no knock or shout for the entrance, and Murtagh was quite surprised to see him.

He was a tall man, his legs and arms seemed to be too long for the rest of him. He had a small nose which was naturally pointed up and made him look sophisticated. He wore a long black robe that barely missed the floor, and midnight-black hair that swung to his back. He stared at Murtagh, who was lying on his bed, with fierce green eyes. "Murtagh."

"..Yes?"

He didn't take his stare off him for a second. "I'm here to teach you about magic. Let me see your hand."

Murtagh slowly showed him his hands, but the man only looked at the one with his gedwëy ignasia. He strode closer and clasped the hand. He glared at it with critical eyes, and looked it over many times before saying, "A fine specimen, your palm is."

"Why is my palm so important?" Murtagh asked.

The man looked up at him with scavenging eyes. "Because," he hissed. "Riders usually use their gedwëy ignasia for magic."

Murtagh had never met anyone who had drove so much fear into his body. He had always imagined Galbatorix to be the only person to ever scare him, but this man was frightening.

"Now," said the man, dropping the hand, "We try some magic."

Murtagh was led outside the castle, in a street that was inhabited by no one. He had never seen it before, and wondered why it was so empty. The mysterious man stood in the middle of the road and beckoned for Murtagh to stand in front of him. "My name, you should know, is Hryth. I'm one of the kingdom's greatest magicians, aside from Galbatorix. You are lucky to be under my instruction."

_Didn't your mother ever teach you not to boast?_ thought Murtagh.

"Magic," Hryth continued, "Is no game. It is a serious ability, and is difficult for most to learn. It is also near-impossible to truly describe. It is something you possess or you don't.

"First I will teach you one of the easiest of spells. It is a spell for levitation." He kicked a nearby rock with a shiny boot. "Concentrate on this rock, and say _stenr reisa_ to lift it."

Murtagh looked at the stone and took in all of its features, which wasn't much anyway. It was small, gray, and unintelligent. There was a dent here and there, but otherwise it was smooth and undamaged. "Stenr reisa," he said.

The stone sat comfortably.

"Stenr reisa," he repeated.

Nothing happened.

"Stenr reisa!"

..Nope.

"Stenr.. Reisa," he said through gritted teeth.

..

Murtagh cursed under his breath. Hryth looked quite amused. "Look at the rock with your mind, not your eyes," he advised.

_I'm supposed to look at the rock _with my mind_?! Oh yeah, that makes sense. Next you're going to tell me to sniff that tree with my foot._

Nevertheless, he tried. He closed his eyes and opened the solid forces around his mind. Remembering how he could talk with his own dragon without words, he reached out for the rock. To his own amazement, he found it, but it was dull and lifeless. He grasped it with his consciousness, feeling its every detail. Then he whispered, "Stenr reisa."

Opening his eyes, Murtagh saw the rock lying perfectly still. "Why you little—"

"Yelling at the stone won't help anything," Hryth interrupted. "Let me try to explain this as simply as possible. When you use magic, it's as if.." He paused, searching for the right description. "_Mending_ a conscious with another: yours, and that which you are trying to do magic with." When Murtagh gave him a strange look, he added, "I'm not mad, Murtagh. I know a rock does not really have a brain, or heart, or anything a living person does."

"Then how am I supposed to find it?" Murtagh demanded.

"Opening your mind, as you did. Then you must reach for both the object and a certain part of your mind. It is a hidden place, filled with power and energy. Go on, try it now."

Murtagh did. He lowered his barriers, reached for the rock, and started the great search of power. He explored his mind, finding only memories and feeling, until he come upon a new sensation. Not a feeling, nor a memory, or anything he had found in his mind before. He wandered through it, feeling it blocked by a strange wall. He pushed at the wall, and was forced backward. He tried to climb it, but its top was no where to be seen. Frustrated, he began hitting and kicking at the wall, feeling mad for wresting a wall in his mind.

Finally, it broke. It was splattered into a million pieces which darted around Murtagh's mind. He eagerly dug through the pile and was filled with power and energy, as Hyrth had said. Excited, he said, "Stenr reisa!"

The stone hovered in the air. The flight only lasted seconds, but it felt like hours as energy drained Murtagh. When the stone landed with a plop, he gasped for air.

"Well done," said Hryth, although his expression betrayed no pride or joy. "That is all for today. Meet me here tomorrow morning. And until then, practice that spell."

* * *

**There. It's just a chapter of pretty boring lessons, but at least it's something, right? Oh well. Review please!**


	7. Let's Not and Say We Did

**Were you wondering what happened to Layl and how she knew his name? Yeah, I started to think about it a lot recently. I originally had a different plan for her, but I like this better. So, anyway..**

* * *

"Wakey-wakey."

Murtagh grumbled under his breath as a ray of sunlight hit his face. "Go _away_," he moaned.

"Fine. I'll go and ride your full-grown dragon by myself, then."

He sprang up from his bed for two different reasons. The first was at the mention of his dragon, and the second was because the voice disturbing his rest was so familiar. "Layl?" Murtagh asked, shocked.

"The one and only," she replied. She was standing by his bed with her arms crossed, clothed in a long blue dress, much unlike her ragged dress in Melian. The dress went to her knees, and a deep tear on one side of it caught Murtagh's eye. Her blond hair was flowing around her shoulders, looking much brighter than it had at their previous encounter. "Now come on. We need to hurry out to the fields." She rushed out the door.

"The fields?" Murtagh echoed, trying to keep her fast pace. "Why are you here? Hryth's supposed to mentor me now. And how did you know my name back in Melian? That's been bugging me—"

Layl silenced him with a finger. "Your many questions are taking a great amount of breath, which should be saved for walking, which you are _very_ slow at." She glanced back at him. "Save them for when you do not have to walk."

"But—"

Layl tutted. "Men."

At that, he shut up. She led Murtagh out of the castle, and out of the gates of Urû'baen. Then they walked well away from the city, to a large clearing of only grass. Layl looked all around, and had the expression as if she were shouting to someone. Moments later, far-off trees began to flatten, revealing Murtagh's dragon.

The red dragon flew toward them. Even from a distance, Murtagh could tell he had grown. All his features were more than twice their old size, and the dragon was a massive red blob in the sky. Murtagh noticed he flew rather clumsily, swaying left and right. As he drew closer, unnatural wind splashed their faces, and he landed with a thud, tucking his tail over his paws. _Yes?_

His voice surprised Murtagh. The dragon's voice was low and soaked with authority. _He's obviously learned to speak_, thought Murtagh.

"Flying lessons," Layl explained. He realized his dragon had projected his thoughts to the both of them.

_Ah. _The dragon hooked its massive eyes upon Murtagh. _He will need it._

_Your positivity is appreciated, _thought Murtagh, and he realized he could no longer express his sarcasm in the depths of his mind, and not have his thoughts read. But he couldn't place whether he liked that idea or not.

The dragon simply blinked in return.

"It is a skill you _both_ need to learn," Layl said. She looked at the dragon critically. "We noticed how you flew out there."

He shuffled one paw over another, embarrassed.

"Now," Layl went on, "You need a name. Murtagh, if you would."

Murtagh leafed through the list Galbatorix had given him. The dragon only liked one, and refused to change his pick. _Are you sure?_ Murtagh asked.

_Do not pester me_, the dragon growled.

Murtagh shrugged. "He likes the name Thorn."

Layl nodded. "Then Thorn it shall be. Never try to change a dragon's mind, especially on the subject of names." She grinned, as if she guessed Murtagh had done just that.

_Yeah, Mur-tagh, _Thorn chimed.

_Grr. _"So, do I get to fly him?"

"First he must learn to fly alone. Thorn, please come with me over here." Layl led Thorn to a different part of the clearing, and they began to practice take-offs Murtagh found rather boring.

He sat down on the grass, shielding his eyes from the sun above. What was Layl doing here? And, more importantly, teaching them how to fly? How should _she _know how to fly a dragon? Unless she was a Rider, but Murtagh immediately crossed that option out. The only egg left was the green one, which still lay unhatched in its chest. And what about his name? If she worked with Galbortix, it wouldn't be a surprise she knew his name, but then why was she in Melian? And why hadn't she turned him into the king?_ Oh-so many questions.._

When Layl and Thorn returned, Thorn flying effortlessly in the sky, Murtagh paraded her with his questions. "Who _are_ you?" was his final question.

She simply shrugged her shoulders. "Layl Jadendaughter."

"Do you work for the king, or are you a simple wife in Melian?" he demanded.

"Neither, and both." As if that settled Murtagh's questions, Layl walked to the center of the field.

"You can't be neither and both," he objected, following.

"But I am." Again she shrugged.

"Okaaaay," he said, frustration soaking his voice, "Can you at least tell me why you are teaching us to fly?"

"Because you need to learn how to fly."

Murtagh yelled a string of curses. "Why.. are.. _you_.. teaching.. us.. to.. fly?"

For the third time, Layl shrugged. "King's orders."

"Bah!" Murtagh spat. "Are you going to give me direct answers, or petty riddles?"

"Both."

"_Stop that_!" Murtagh rubbed the sides of his forehead. "You're hurting my brain."

"Like that's so hard to do," said Layl.

_I like her_, Thorn announced.

Murtagh was now shaking with anger. Taking deep breathes, he said, "Screw it. Teach me how to fly."

This seemed to please Layl. Dimple-faced, she instructed Murtagh on how to get on Thorn, teaching him where was best to climb in order to avoid spikes. "Now, try it."

"Let's not and say we did," said Murtagh, suddenly afraid of heights.

"Just do it."

Mumbling darkly, he gripped two of Thorn's white spikes with his hands and lifted himself onto his dragon's back. Layl technique worked perfectly, giving him a comfortable position. "The best way to learn," said Layl when he was situated, "Is by doing. Go, Thorn!"

Thorn erupted into the sky, and Murtagh clung to a spike for dear life. Thorn zoomed through the sky with unexpected speed, jolting Murtagh from one side to another. _Slow down!_ Murtagh pleaded.

_Make me._

But just then, he landed in front of Layl anyway. Murtagh was too frightened to move, so Thorn adjusted himself so Murtagh slid out. Layl caught him in her arms, and began laughing hysterically.

"What?" Murtagh demanded weakly.

"Just that you're shaking is vibrating onto me," said a rather-amused Layl. "It's such a funny feeling!"

Murtagh ceased his shaking, and hoisted himself to his feet, brushing dirt off his pants. "That was awful!" he complained.

Layl threw back her head and laughed, and Thorn joined in, smoke escaping his mouth and his entire body vibrating. "Oh," said Layl, her merriment finally stopping, "Thorn was just being hard on you. Flying is actually much more fun."

"And how would you know?" Murtagh challenged. "Have you ridden a dragon?"

"Yes," Layl replied. "Thorn, do you mind..?"

_Not at all._

Layl grabbed one of his spikes and swung herself onto his back. "Watch," she told Murtagh. With that, they took off, just a blur of red and blue as they went farther and farther. At one point, they turned back and dived down toward Murtagh. They landed neatly, and Layl slid off with a taunting look. "See. I'm not shaking."

"Fine," said Murtagh rather grumpily, "Teach me how to stay on without vomiting."

And that went on for the next hour. Eventually, Murtagh was no longer afraid to fly, but he wouldn't ever forget how it felt the first time he was on Thorn's back.

"Good job," said Layl, giggling. "I'll meet you here just after your lessons with Hryth everyday, and then you'll go back to your room and study dragons with the king."

"All that in one day?" He couldn't see how he would be able to manage the schedule without toppling over.

"Yup. Now go back to the castle." As he departed, Layl called, "And take a bath, will you? You stink of dragon!"

* * *

**I like Thorn. You never really get to know what he's like in the books, so I decided his personality would be full of sarcasm. Another thing I love is Murtagh's frustration. He's a silly goose. :) Oh and by the way, I know I put two chapters in a day, but my schedule will continue Monday as one or two chapters a week. We're getting closer to the part with Eragon and Murtagh reuniting, and then I _may_ go into Brisingr.. I don't know. What do you guys think?  
**


	8. Don't Hit Me!

**..Chapter Eight. Whoo! Sorry, I have nothing important to say.**

* * *

"Try _again_."

Murtagh clenched his fists. "Stenr reisa."

For the seventh time that morning after the spell had been said, the stone did nothing. Murtagh looked down at the rock with uncontrollable hatred. He probably would have attempted to strangle it if not for Hryth watching him.

_Strangling rocks never solves anything_, Thorn said. He had begun to add opinions and comments while Murtagh had his lessons. It was a strange feeling for Murtagh to have a voice boom in his head and give him advice. Usually those were the symptoms of a crazy person.

_You sound like Hryth_, Murtagh murmured.

Thorn snorted in their mental link. _What a compliment to be compared to the black-maned two-leg._

Hryth shook his head. "This came much easier for you yesterday. What happened?"

Murtagh honestly didn't know. He could not concentrate on anything his teachers had been saying for last few days. But still, he doubted that he would tell Hryth what troubled him if he knew. "I don't know."

"And neither do we." Hryth squatted and looked at the stone lying peacefully on the ground. "Your other teachers have noticed your.. distance.. as well."

"What?" Murtagh hadn't been listening. He had been examining Thorn's emotions, which appeared very tangled and wild.

Hryth stood and crossed his arms, giving Murtagh an annoyed expression. "If you aren't going to listen, you may as well return to your room until your flying lesson." Without waiting for a reply, he headed for the castle, brushing Murtagh's arm as he went by.

_What are you doing?_ Murtagh asked Thorn, slowly retreating to the castle.

_Mmh._

_Dragons_, Murtagh thought. _What confusing creatures._

_Not as confusing as those who walk on two legs instead of four,_ Thorn replied rather defensively.

_At least fire doesn't come out of our noses! I wonder.. What happens when you have a cold?_

Thorn growled. _What of those feet? How can you stand on those puny things?_

And it went on, even as Murtagh lay on his bed. Thorn commented on his slim fingers, while Murtagh pointed out Thorn's odd-looking legs. Thorn insulted Murtagh's meek toes, and Murtagh, in turn, dissed Thorn's bony jaw. Murtagh walked to the field in which he practiced flying, still sending insults through their link. When he found Layl, they were discussing the matter of hair: that Murtagh's was wild and untamed, and Thorn's baldness was unnatural and freakish.

_Baldy, _Murtagh taunted.

_Hairy, _Thorn snapped.

Layl, who was standing with her hands behind her back, coughed. "_If_ you two are finished."

"Sorry."

_Sorry._

Layl gave them each a slightly disturbed look, then cleared her throat. "Today we will learn how to attack while in the air. For this, you will need a weapon." She brought one hand in front, to reveal Murtagh's hand-and-a-half sword.

"My sword!" His exclamation was louder than he intended, but he was just as happy to see it. Murtagh had missed having his sword with him, having it ready if needed, and whipping it out when danger arose. He lunged toward it hungrily, but Layl pulled it away. Dismay showing in his eyes, he said, "What?"

Layl looked somewhat reluctant to reply. Then she said, "Galbatorix wants you to swear you will not use this against him or anyone working for the Empire, aside from me, as your teacher who is required to fight you, unless given his permission." She didn't meet his eyes as she spoke.

Murtagh sighed. "I should have known." Looking at his sword the entire time, he swore in the ancient language he would not hurt anyone in the Empire, aside from Layl, unless commanded by Galbatorix to do so. "Now can I have it?" he asked, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Yes.." Layl handed over his sword, then pulled out her other hand to reveal a glimmering silver sword. She tapped its edge thoughtfully, then looked away in the distance at some trees. "Now," she said, still looking away, "We need to practice fighting on dragon back, as the occasion will rise when you need it." Her words seemed to catch in her throat for a moment, then: "And I obviously need a dragon to ride, so the king is loaning us Shruikan for the next two days."

Thorn's glassy eyes narrowed. _Shruikan._

Murtagh had only seen the king's dragon a few times, none of which were recent. But Thorn seemed to have some dislike to him, and Murtagh felt the same way; whether that was because of their link or not, he couldn't tell. "Shruikan?" he repeated.

Layl nodded. Then she closed her eyes for a moment. "He's on his way."

Murtagh looked around wildly for some clue to where the black dragon would appear from, but none was obvious. He was not ready for the neat _plop_ that sounded behind him.

Slowly, he turned. Behind him was Shruikan, snorting impatiently. The dragon was massive, with beady black eyes that followed you everywhere. His midnight wings were folded neatly to his sides, and his white teeth glimmered as he yawned. He put one paw over the other and looked at them with a matured expression. Shruikan turned and glared at Murtagh, who hadn't taken his eyes off him since the dragon had landed. _What!_

"Nothing." He turned around quickly, aware of Shruikan's hot breath on his neck.

Thorn and Layl were both staring at the black dragon with an expression Murtagh couldn't define. After an awkward silence, Layl clasped her hands and said, "Enough of this! Let's get on with the lesson."

_It took you long enough, _said Shruikan.

Layl looked only at Murtagh and Thorn as she spoke: "Now, the key to attack off ground is keeping balance. For now, at least. I doubt Eragon would have practiced such a skill, seeing as the Varden has only one dragon. If that is the case, all you must do is be sure not to fall. Alright, now onto Thorn. Shruikan, if I may?"

Murtagh scrambled up Thorn's back, and, seconds later, Layl mounted Shruikan. "Shruikan and I are skilled at this talent, so do not expect us to go easy on you!" She had to raise her voice in order to be heard from their distance. "This hurts my voice; I'll go into your mind instead."

Even though he had been warned, Murtagh instinctively pushed back the new presence in his mind. The presence did not push; it simply waited until Murtagh lowered his barriers. _There's a good boy_, said Layl.

Shruikan charged up into the sky, and Thorn followed slowly, saying to only Murtagh, _Does the sun-haired two-leg seem different to you?_

_Yes..., _Murtagh said, watching Layl, who was sitting on Shruikan's back with a blank expression. _It probably had something to do with Galbatorix._

Thorn began to reply, when Shruikan appeared in both their thoughts. _Concentrate, _he ordered firmly.

_Yes, _Layl agreed. _You have no room for distance on a dragon's back._

Thorn stretched his neck. _Says the girl who cannot keep a straight thought._

_You must work as one, _Layl went on, and Murtagh wondered if she had heard. _Thorn, you must know exactly what Murtagh plans to do, and be able to move as he wishes. Murtagh, you must be able to work with whatever Thorn gives you, and be able to meet his demands._

Shruikan climbed higher into the sky and roared, _Attack us if you can!_

Thorn followed suit, and Murtagh prepared his hand-and-a-half sword. Thorn approached the two, and Murtagh raised his weapon high above his head. When Thorn was close enough, Murtagh lashed at Layl, but she dodged easily. In turn, she made a deep cut in Thorn's leg, and he flew back to land. Shruikan and Layl followed. _Heal him,_ said Layl.

"I don't know how to heal him," Murtagh said, confused. They were now close enough to talk to each other, so he felt no need to invade Layl's thoughts.

"What!" Layl hopped off of Shruikan, even though he was not entirely on ground. The fall seemed to do nothing to her; she landed kneeling on a knee with all fingertips balancing her. Then she ran to Murtagh. "You haven't learned to heal yet!"

"No.."

Layl hit Murtagh in the shoulder.

"Uh, _ouch_?" Murtagh rubbed his shoulder. The impact didn't hurt much, but it was unexpected. "What was that for?"

"I don't know!" Layl exclaimed. She paced back and forth. "What _is_ Hryth teaching you?"

"Levitation."

Layl's eyes widened in anger. "_Please_ tell me you're making a dragon float, not a..."

"Stone?"

Layl hit his shoulder again.

"What did I do!"

"You're only lifting a _pebble_!" Layl clenched her fists and began to shake with anger.

"..Yes—Don't hit me!" He dodged another one of Layl's blows. "What's your problem?"

"NOTHING!"

Murtagh took a few steps backward, his hands outstretched to show he had no weapons to harm her. "I'm just going to leave now—"

"Stay.. Where.. You.. Are!"

Murtagh flinched. Layl had officially lost it. What did he do? _Breathe_? And now she was going crazy on him because Hryth had failed to teach him how to heal.

Finally, she seemed to be calming. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Waise heil," and mended Thorn's leg. Then she looked at Murtagh. "I will.. have to speak.. to Hryth.. about.. your training." Each word seemed to be a struggle. With that, Layl turned around and marched toward the castle.

Murtagh dully realized it was the second time that day a teacher had walked out on him. _Two in a row_, said Thorn, examining his leg. _Congratulations._

_What the hell..? _Murtagh blinked as he watched Layl depart. _Thorn, any ideas?_

_I'm a clueless as you._

Murtagh looked at Shruikan, who had watched the show with interest. Now he yawned and licked a paw. "Shruikan, what was that?"

The black dragon's bones cracked as he rolled his shoulders. _Do not ask me,_ he said, shaking his head. _Women and their.. moods._

* * *

**I would like to thank my mom for inspiring me with this chapter. Even though your temper was scary, it helped me overcome my writer's block. Thanks, mom! :)  
**


	9. A Helping Hand

The kitchen girl's knees wobbled as she looked up at Murtagh. "The.. The king will—will not be seeing you today." She shrank back, as if expecting Murtagh to slap her at any moment.

"Thanks," said Murtagh, his voice flat and emotionless.

The girl looked surprised that he hadn't done anything to her. She gave him a small curtsy, then rushed out of the room.

Murtagh shook his head as she left. He always wondered what made all Galbatorix's servants so edgy. He had occasionally heard murmurs of a torture chamber, but he himself had not seen such a chamber. He hopped onto his bed, content to sleep all day after the scene with Layl.

Just as his eyelids closed, Thorn interrupted his thoughts. _Murtagh!_

He grumbled under his breath, cursing his luck. _Yeah?_

_The king wants you._

What was the kings game, sending a girl to tell him he could relax and then making Thorn tell him to get up? _Does he, Thorn? Really? Because I don't want to get up again. _

Thorn growled, _Yes. Right now._

Murtagh sighed and got up, stretching slowly. _Fine, fine. I'm coming._

* * *

"Oh, hello, Murtagh."

Murtagh jumped. He had just entered the castle's main room and hadn't noticed Galbatorix waiting by the door. He had heard plenty of stories that the king was crazy, but so far he hadn't seen much to prove this. But today the king was acting mad enough. Murtagh waited for him to give an explanation.

Galbatorix blinked. "I didn't hear a hello."

Murtagh narrowed his eyes and breathed, "Hello."

The king smiled. "That's better. As for why you are here, I decided today's lesson would be held in a more convenient place."

"Funny. A girl came into my room and said you wouldn't be seeing me."

Galbatorix looked mildly confused. "A girl? Well, I don't recall sending a girl to your room. No matter. Let us get on with the lesson."

He sat on the floor happily, crossing his legs. Murtagh stared at him, and the king beckoned him onto the floor as well. Still confused, Murtagh kneeled on a knee in front of him.

"I have heard from Layl that your lessons are not taking the full effect we had wished," said Galbatorix, hands on his knees. "For that, we will have to resort to more urgent methods. Our battle with the Varden is in three days, and you are not ready for it." He paused. "Can you call Thorn over here?"

_Thorn?_

For awhile, there was no reply, then: _Huh? Oh. Yeah, I'm here._

_Can you come here? The king wants the both of us._

Thorn seemed to sigh. _Yes. Give me a second._

Murtagh and Galbatorix waited in awkward silence. The king stared at him intently, while Murtagh looked around the room for anything of interest. Finally, Thorn's head popped in from one of the many tunnels. _What?_

"Thorn!" Galbatorix exclaimed. "Welcome. Sit, sit, sit. I won't have you poking in on us like a mole."

Thorn looked at Murtagh, who simply shrugged, and moved over to him. He sat, pushing his paws under himself like a cat.

"Now," said the king, slamming his hands on the tile floor, "We need you to be ready for battle. And, quite frankly, you aren't. For that, I'll have to giving you a little _helping hand_." He chuckled to himself.

"Stand up," Galbatorix ordered, suddenly feirce.

Murtagh sighed and stood, unhappy with sudden movements.

"Thorn, this should be somewhat familiar, so I will begin with you. Be a good boy."

Through their mental link, Murtagh felt the king enter Thorn's head. It was almost as if he were in his own head, but slightly distant. Murtagh couldn't tell exactly what Galbatorix was doing; he wasn't examining memories or digging for information. It was almost as if he were _adding_ to Thorn's mind. Adding what, Murtagh wasn't sure.

At the same time, the visable Galbatorix was closing his eyes and uttering spells. Murtagh couldn't hear, but he also didn't want to, as the king usually only used black magic.

Galbatorix pulled away from Thorn's mind, and Murtagh noticed Thorn was extremely exhausted. The king said, "Your turn, Murtagh. Don't fight."

Murtagh resisted pushing the king away with quite a lot of force. Even when he was in his own mind, Murtagh could still not determine exactly what Galbatorix what doing. Murtagh faintly heard him murmuring spells, and with each word a large amount of energy was pulled from Murtagh. At last, the king pulled away, and Murtagh felt more tired than he ever had before. It took a great deal of strength to continue standing.

The king beamed. "There ya go. Now get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day."

Murtagh walked down the tunnel toward his room, tripping every so often and wondering just what Galbartorix had done to him.


	10. New Strength

**Sorry I didn't get this in last week. I promise to get the next chapter in this week as well to make up for it. If I don't by Friday, you have my permission to nag at me through PM until I get it in.**

**

* * *

**Murtagh woke the next morning feeling.. Well, he wasn't sure how he was feeling. Not as weak as the day before, that was for sure. He had spent the night completely uncomfortable, unable to get into a suitable position on his bed. At last he fell into a light sleep being half-flipped over and his arms tumbling off the mattress.

Although he didn't feel weak, he didn't feel strong either. Murtagh still had that weird feeling that Galbatorix had done something to him, but he had no idea what.

Murtagh yawned, stretched, and suited himself in a new outfit, provided by another servant. Still blinking away sleep, he ran off to Hryth's lesson.

* * *

"Murtagh."

"Hryth."

Hryth narrowed his eyes. "Murtagh."

Murtagh blinked, not sure what game they were playing. "..Hryth."

Hryth made an exasperated sigh and looked away. He folded his arms on his chest and said, "The king tells me he.. _helped_ you yesterday. Let us hope it did something." He gave Murtagh a side-long glance, and nodded to the stone in front of him. "Try levitating it."

Murtagh took a deep breath and looked at the stone. This time he had no trouble finding it, nor the _power_ inside his conscience. Slightly confused at his sudden ease, he murmured, "Stenr reisa."

The stone darted into the air, making Murtagh jump at its sudden action. It continued to go, climbing well over their heads. Hryth's face remained neither pleased or disappointed, but his grim expression loosened. "Not horrible," he commented.

_I guess that's as close to a compliment as I'll get, _thought Murtagh.

To his surprise, Thorn replied, _Yes, it probably is._

Thorn hadn't said anything to him since Galbatorix had tempered their minds. He had seemed too exhausted to maintain their mental connection last night, and Murtagh hadn't noticed Thorn's mind in his own.

"It seems we may finally be making progress," said Hryth, looking lazily at his fingernails. "Let's try something else."

For the next few hours, they zoomed through the lesson. Murtagh succeeded lifting one object after another, so they left levitation. He was taught how to rise up into the air, which he mastered in only minutes. Hryth was beginning to look slightly pleased. He gave Murtagh challenges and directions, and Murtagh was able to accomplish it all with ease. When they began working on combat, it became harder, but Murtagh was glad to have improved.

When they were finished, Hryth gave him a rare clap. "Well done," he said. "You are improving. Hopefully we will be able to cover much tomorrow, then you will have your first battle against the Varden the next day." He studied Murtagh for a second. "Alright then, off you go."

* * *

_Maybe I could hide in a ditch, _Murtagh said thoughtfully.

He was, quite frankly, scared to see Layl. After her mood the day before and her constant hits, he would rather spend his time in a hole where no one could find him.

_Honestly,_ snorted Thorn. _A ditch? Be a little more creative—You could drown yourself._

_I think you're onto something, Thorn.  
_

But he had already arrived at the field where they practiced. Layl and Thorn were waiting for him, and Murtagh was relieved to see she didn't look hostile. Her face was quite blank. He stopped in front of her and waited for her to speak, but she crossed her arms and blinked at him. "Where's Shruikan?" Murtagh asked after some time.

"Away."

Murtagh nodded awkwardly, and Layl looked away.

_Say something_, Thorn commanded.

_You._

_It's your lesson._

"What will we be doing today?" he asked finally.

Layl glanced at him. "Same as yesterday. We will be practicing your fighting off ground."

"So, then, Shruikan _is_ coming."

"Yes."

Murtagh looked at Thorn. His dragon returned the gaze, saying, _What a stimulation conversation. You really have a way with women._

_Don't start. _"Will he be here soon?"

Layl blinked. "He should."

"But _will_ he?"

She swung her head to face him. "I can't _guarantee_, now can I? Shruikan does whatever he so pleases. He could decide to have lunch instead of attending the lesson. Just like his wretched Rider."

Murtagh stared at her, surprised. "Aren't you under Galbatorix's command?"

"Of course," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," Murtagh replied, "But aren't you _willingly_ under his command? You wouldn't be teaching me otherwise, would you?"

Layl took her sweet time answering. "Not _everyone_ is so willing to follow the king, Murtagh," she said slowly. She looked at him intently, as if willing him to understand something.

Murtagh was clueless. "Well, I wouldn't be surprised Galbatorix took some under his command against their will, like me, but I don't.." He paused, piecing together the puzzle. "I mean, you can't.. He wouldn't have you do such important tasks if you did not completely obey him.. Would he?" He looked over at her, confused.

Layl again didn't answer his question directly. "What does the king call you, Murtagh? What position do you have with him?"

"I'm his right–hand–man," Murtagh said, although he didn't like to admit it. "But I still don't understand—"

"Do you obey the king willingly?" Layl was staring at him, her pupils moving back at forth as she watched both his eyes for a reaction.

Murtagh frowned. "No. I do because he knows my true name."

Layl was leaning toward him, her expression hopeful. "A-_hem_."

"Are—" Murtagh started, but Thorn interrupted.

_The black dragon flies effortlessly nearer._

"Wow, Thorn," said Layl, suspiciously quick to change the subject, "That was really poetic. You should write a book."

Murtagh wasn't paying attention. What was Layl trying to tell him? He could think of numerous options, but the way she had looked at him, so _hopefully._ There had to be something deeper she was begging him to realize.

His thoughts faded when a neat _plop_ sounded beside Murtagh, and the ground shook lightly.

_Shruikan_, Thorn chimed in his head.

Murtagh didn't bother to look at him. He walked over to Thorn, still puzzled by Layl. Her moods so far had not been fun, but today's was strangest. He wished she would just come out and say it, but everything she said was in come complex code.

"Sword, Murtagh," called Layl. Murtagh turned and tossed his sword to her, eyeing Shruikan. He was much larger than the rest of them, even Thorn couldn't compete with him. Shruikan opened his mouth in a giant yawn, his black wings flapping behind him lazily. He looked down at Layl, who was busy putting a spell on Murtagh's sword, with a superior expression.

Layl tossed back Murtagh's sword. He missed, and it slit his arm. To his surprise, his arm remained undamaged, and he felt no pain. Then Murtagh recognized the spell. It was the same one Eragon had put on their swords when they had fought, and it made the edge harmless.

Murtagh mounted Thorn as Layl finished putting the spell on her sword. She hopped onto Shruikan, glaring back at him with the same manipulating look. Shruikan took sudden flight, and Thorn kicked off the ground clumsily after him. Then Shruikan wheeled around, both he and his rider staring at them. "Make the first move!" Layl shouted.

Murtagh hesitated. He knew it was wrong to fight against a woman, but he could vividly imagine how Layl would react to that excuse. He had barely seen her use a sword, so he wasn't certain on how precise she might be. But Murtagh knew not to underestimate anyone, thanks to Eragon's example when he fought Arya. Murtagh had to stop himself from laughing at that memory, then told Thorn, _Let's go nearer._

Thorn followed orders, swooping over Shruikan and Arya. Murtagh waved his hand–and–a–half sword, then leaned over and sliced Shruikan's leg. It did nothing, but Shruikan looked infuriated. He followed Thorn, who was now circling around the sky. Murtagh saw Layl had to grip one of his spikes, and was saying something to him frantically. But Shruikan seemed to ignore her, and streamed after Thorn.

Murtagh readied his sword. Thorn seemed to be enjoying himself; he looped in the air, forcing Shruikan to mimic his movements. When Murtagh and Layl came close enough, their swords clashed together. They hardly had any opportunities, though, because of Thorn and Shruikan's flying contest.

It became obvious Layl was getting annoyed. She yelled at them all to get to ground, and when they were, she flung herself off Shruikan. They seemed to be having a silent conversation. Layl threw her hands into the air as if she were yelling. Shruikan snorted several times, then turned and flew away gracefully.

Murtagh heard Layl mutter words under her breath such as, "pompous brute" and "big-head weasel". Then she turned to Thorn and Murtagh, sighed, and tugged on a fake smile. "Well, as it seems Shruikan is much too busy to help me, we will have to save this for another day. Hopefully you will have some time to fight against us before the battle, but seeing as it's the day after tomorrow, I don't think you'll be able to." She sighed again, and her smile cracked into a worried frown. "Don't know what the king is thinking. You aren't ready for this battle. He must have some sort of trick up his sleeve. You may go now," she added to Thorn and Murtagh, who were listening with interest.

_Ever feel like we know nothing around here? _asked Murtagh as he walked toward the castle.

_No_, Thorn replied indignantly.


End file.
